


La Petite Mort

by viatorix



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Shot, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viatorix/pseuds/viatorix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan and Cullen steal a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Petite Mort

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, written for the kink meme:
> 
> 'The Inquisitor accidently cums all over Cullen's face. It's actually pretty hot.'

The halls were quiet at this time in the morning. Besides the kitchen servants who awoke in the dark of the night, very few others arose until it was well past dawn. Cullen was one of those few, at least when he was not laying in Trevelyan’s fine sheets, then he could be excused on the account of enjoying the comfort of another body wrapped around his. 

Trevelyan was not one of those people, though he had decided to be one today. He yawned widely at Cullen’s side as they walked the winding path to the War Room. Corypheus’ forces were on the move, he had said, they needed to strategize, and that meant a whole day locked in the old stone room. They were early yet, Leliana and Josephine wouldn’t be arriving for a good half hour. Cullen decided that he would use the extra time to study the map, maybe move around some of his own pins, and look at some reports. To his surprise, Maxwell seemed to have the same idea, and they had walked together from the Great Hall after a few words and a quick ‘good morning’ peck. 

“It never ceases to amaze me, how diligently you put on your armour every morning. I have trouble just pulling on my breeches,” Trevelyan piped, pulling Cullen from his reverie. 

“I like it,” he replied, tightening the buckles of his vambrace, “I find the routine cathartic.”

The Inquisitor snorted. “Of course you would.” His words gave Cullen pause, and he turned to the man who continued to pace ahead and only stopped when he found Cullen wasn’t following. The Commander quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you implying that I’m uptight?”

Trevelyan trotted back to Cullen lazily, recognising the playful smirk on Cullen’s lips for what it was. His lips tilted in turn, and he swayed his way into Cullen’s personal space, threatening to dive in for a kiss only to pull back at the last moment. 

“Well if you are, I’m sure we could find ways to loosen you up,” he said and Cullen gave a deep groan.

Maxwell winced. “Not good?”

“Could have been better,” Cullen countered, pulling the man in for a long, slow kiss. He had missed him last night, and the night before. There was always something or someone getting in the way that they barely had the time to meet, much less enjoy each other. He had missed Maxwell’s warmth on his back, and his front, and… well anywhere, really. This small slot of time could very well be the only chance they’d have together for a while. The Inquisitor recognised that fact too.

Trevelyan pulled him into one of the many alcoves that lined the walls; pushing Cullen up against the stone as he took his mouth, and peppered kisses against the delicate skin of his throat and jaw. Cullen’s answering groan was a little more needy and a little less filled with second-hand embarrassment this time around.

The thought suddenly occurred to Cullen that just about anyone could walk through here to find them. To see the Inquisitor and the Commander rutting together like schoolboys behind a chantry would set tongues wagging all over Skyhold, possibly even further into Thedas’ various royal courts. _That Commander is a wanton one_ , they would say, _the noises he made under the Inquisitor’s hands would make a red woman blush_. The danger of such a thing sent a ripple of pleasure down Cullen’s spine.

“W-wait. Wait,” he stammered, pushing Trevelyan away.

“What?” Trevelyan answered with a frown; trying to follow Cullen’s line of sight as he peeked around the corner of their little nook. “What is it?”

The hallway was as silent as when they had entered, but Cullen looked and strained to listen for any footsteps or chatter that would give away people close by. There was nothing; not even the keen of a morning bird, only the whistling of the mountain breeze as it threaded through the broken bricks. 

“Cullen?” Maxwell asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man gave a surprised squawk when a daring Cullen dropped to his knees, his plated armour clattering as it hit the tile. He could feel Trevelyan hastily growing hard through his trousers as his picked at the tight laces, unthreading them as quickly as he could. He didn’t know how much time they had after all, and Cullen felt a thrill race through him as he pulled the leather down and wrapped a hand around the base of the Inquisitor’s cock. A quick swipe of his tongue at the slit had the man above him groaning. Cullen decided to use his time as wisely as he could, swirling at the head before pressing his tongue down the thick vein on the underside of the now fully rigid shaft. Maxwell fisted a hand in his hair, but was gentle enough not to force his head, and instead just ran his fingers through the strands, encouraging Cullen to continue. 

“Maker’s breath, Cullen,” Trevelyan huffed, and Cullen pressed his smile into the side of the Inquisitor’s cock; feeling a small swell of pride at the way his lover was coming undone before him. He’d never felt he was good at this sort of thing.

Maxwell had to stop himself from sliding down the stone wall, his legs felt weak, especially as he watched the man on his knees before him take his cock fully into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked down the length. He wanted so badly to thrust his hips forward, to nudge the back of Cullen’s throat and watch him splutter. His hot mouth would contract around his cock, and the added saliva would slip from his lips to pool on his chin. What a sight that would be. But no, Trevelyan wouldn’t force Cullen into anything, so he kept his hips still as the man worked him for a time; all his focus went into holding back for as long as possible. The pressure mounted in his groin regardless, whether from his conjured imagery or the way Cullen tried to take as much of the length as he could before returning to press his hot tongue to the underside of the head, Trevelyan didn’t know or care.

_Oh Maker, he was going to—_

There was a sudden bang of a door, and Maxwell didn’t have time to warn Cullen before the man had pulled the cock from his mouth to startle at the commotion. He couldn’t stop himself, even if he’d wanted to. The Inquisitor unloaded with a hitched groan, ropes of seed exploding along the left side of Cullen’s face, splattering obscenely all the way up his brow and partially into his hairline. The both of them froze in shock.

_Oh shit._

After a pause, Cullen was the first to recover, his mouth in a wordless gape as he wiped his forearm across his face. It took him a moment to register the cum smeared across his vambrace, and he touched where it dripped down his eye before looking up at Maxwell, a hint of outrage twisting his features. The Inquisitor felt his gut clench. Cullen may not be happy with him, but he seared the image of the sight before him in his mind. The memory of his normally immaculate Commander on his knees, cum dripping down his face was going to be with Maxwell a long time, and no doubt even keep him company on those lonelier nights. 

At the moment though, well… he internally winced, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket; an apology right and ready on his lips.

\--

“I love your hair today, Commander.”

Cullen looked up from his report to glance at Leliana. She was as poised as always, hands in relaxed parade position behind her back. The only sign that something was very wrong, was the almost cat-like grin stretched across her face. Cullen felt a spike of panic, and he had to stop himself from reaching up to feel at his face. If Trevelyan had lied to him about getting all of his… _seed_ off, Cullen was going to kill him, Inquisition be damned. But no, the man frowned, Leliana had said something about his _hair._

His dipping brows must have tipped off the woman, because she grinned even wider (if that were possible) and elaborated, drawing the attention of both Josephine and Maxwell at the opposite end of the table. “It’s looking very healthy today, did you use a new product? It’s almost as if it’s got a certain shine to it.”

Oh yes, Cullen was going to kill him.


End file.
